The weekend was drunken. Like very sozzled, soused, too pissed, too drunk.
I'm not proud to confess I visited the 'Chicken man' at the bottom of our road on consecutive nights - on the first occasion I was too shitfaced to even eat the disgusting pizza and 4 hot wings I ordered, instead opting to fall asleep on the sofa fully clothed like a tramp with no appetite. Critics would suggest heating up said dishes for breakfast but the former resembled road kill with a bread base and extra olives. Yum.
The second time was slightly more dignified - I managed to successfully stay awake while ramming 8 hot wings down my gob in the street. A tactic to help avoid becoming all comatose on our couch with uneaten fodder on me lap.
However, Saturday prior to the wings binge was pure laddish class - a daring bike ride across the smoke to procure some acid 12s before getting wifebeatered up in an east end boozer. This was followed by accepting honey from a stranger in the street (real bee business - not poontag) and then a lengthy blaze up featuring a collection of hip hop's biggest hits.
It was the sort of behaviour I wish I'd indulged in when I was 18 rather than 28. As a teenager this would have been considered the coolest look ever. Now I'm not so sure. Big tunes though and fuck you if you disagree...
Props to C-weezey for the playlist. Almost too much